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Folk Tales/The Hunting Horn
The Hunting Horn appeared as a text story on the Purple Moon Place website. It was featured on Stephanie's secret pouch page. On the link to the story Stephanie says, "This story is about a magical forest..." The Story The Hunting Horn Once there were two sisters, Ryla and Rose. Ryla was a great huntress and spent all her time in the forest with her bow and arrow, stalking food for their table. Rose was quiet and nimble-fingered, and spent all her time sewing and embroidering beautiful clothes for them to wear. One day, Ryla awoke with a headache. “Little sister,” she complained, “I am tired and my head is pounding. I don’t feel up to hunting this day. Why don’t we trade places for a change? You go into the forest with my bow and arrow – and I will stay home and sew.” Rose was very doubtful about this idea. “You’re not very good at sewing, and I am only fair with a bow and arrow…” But Ryla was insistent. “You will be fine. Deer are big, you can easily hit one! Besides, I have the finest arrows ever made. The fresh air will do you good.” So saying, Ryla hustled her younger sister out the door, and sat down in a chair to rest herself. Rose carried her sister’s heavy bow and feathered arrows into the forest. It was dappled with moving shadows and whispering sounds. Things rustled in the bushes and up in the trees…but though she hunted for hours, Rose never saw a single creature. Finally, hot and tired, she climbed a wooded hill. In a clearing on its crest stood a huge five-pronged buck, the largest she had ever seen. Clumsily, Rose notched a blue-feathered arrow to Ryla’s bow. She pulled back and let it go… The buck startled and plunged into the brush. Rose wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the arrow trailing from his left shoulder. She chased him through the woods, but it was no use. He was as swift as the wind, and soon disappeared. The sun began to sink behind the trees. Darkness was coming when Rose realized that she had left her sister’s quiver of arrows behind. “Ryla will be furious to know I’ve lost her quiver! Where could it have gone?” Poor Rose went home empty-handed. She found Ryla sleeping over a lap full of cloth. “I have lost your quiver full of arrows,” said Rose, “Though I looked everywhere, I could not find it.” “All my arrows?!” shouted Ryla. “It took me weeks to make them! You are a silly, irresponsible nitwit of a girl and I am not letting you stay home until you find them!” So the next morning Rose was forced to go back into the forest and look for the arrows. Though she followed trail after trail she could find nothing. That night, though exhausted, Rose cut and sewed a new quiver for Ryla. She embroidered the soft hide with fantastic birds and small animals. Humbly she gave it to her sister. “I cannot find your quiver of arrows, but I have made you a new one. Please forgive me for being so irresponsible.” But her older sister would not forgive her. “That takes care of the quiver – but the arrows I can never replace. I will not forgive you until they are found.” And she shoved Rose out the door. Sadly Rose wandered in the woods again. Only this time, a man stepped forth from behind a tree. He was half again as tall as she, and on his head he wore a set of five-pronged antlers. There was a wound on his left shoulder, red with blood. “Why do you weep, little sister?” asked the man. “I have lost a quiver of arrows and I must get them back,” cried Rose. “Unless I do, my sister will never forgive me.” “Bind my wound and I will help you,” said the man. So Rose tore a strip of cloth from her skirt and dipped it in a stream. She gathered watercress leaves and crushed them in her hands. Then she bound up the man’s wound, laying the wet leaves on his skin before covering it with cloth. The man thanked her then turned and walked away. Following his flowing steps, Rose plunged deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. The light dimmed. A mist arose. And there, before her eyes, yawned a dark cave. Water flowed from above its rocky entrance and pooled in a basin. The horned man gestured to the water and waved her forward. “Look into the basin and you will find your quiver.” Rose looked….at first there was only her own reflection. Then the clear water misted over and colors appeared. They formed the shape of trees and leaves. Beneath one special tree lay the arrows she had lost. The horned man showed her the way and Rose gathered up her sister’s arrows. “How can I thank you for helping me?” asked Rose. “Promise not to hunt in my woods again,” said the man. “And to thank you for binding my wound, here is a gift.” From his belt he untied a small hunting horn. It was made from a hollowed antler and trimmed in copper. “Blow this horn once when you have need of help. Blow it twice when you need help no longer.” Rose thanked him tearfully and ran home. Ryla was overjoyed to see her arrows again, but refused to honor Rose’s promise about hunting in the woods. “I would have to walk miles out of my way to hunt in another woods,” she grumbled. “You were an idiot to make such a promise!” The next day Ryla slung her bow and arrows over her shoulder and entered the forest at dawn. Rose, rising in time to see her sister disappear into the trees, quickly dressed and grabbed her hunting horn. Then she hurried after Ryla. As Ryla notched her first arrow to take down a fox, Rose blew the horn. A gray mist began to swirl among the trees. It rose like an ocean, hiding every trail, every bush, and every creature. From its chilly waves came frightening grunts, howls, and shrieks. Something swooped by Ryla’s head, clawing her hair. Ryla screamed and ducked. Something snapped at her leg. She turned and ran. Rose turned to follow, but not before she blew the horn twice. The howling stopped and the mist began to retreat. She caught a glimpse of a tall shape with antlers, moving away. Ryla never hunted in those woods again. Nor did she ever suggest staying home to sew! Images